If your thoughts were as clear as your eyes, And the whole of your heart were true, You were fitter by far for winning, But then that would not be you.
Bill, look here! Here's the Times. You see this picture, Read if you like a little later. You never Heard how I came to Fairbanks, chanced to stay. It's eight years now. You see in nineteen eleven...
Dear, let me tell you, safe beside you now, Your hand in mine, here from this peak of sand, Under this pine tree, where the wild grapes spill Their fragrance on the lake breeze, from that oak...
"I was walking by the river," Barrett said, "When she arrived. I took her hand, no kiss, A silence for some minutes as we walked. Then we began to take up point by point, For she was concentrated on the hope...
The very fall my sister Nancy Knapp Set fire to the house They were trying Dr. Duval For the murder of Zora Clemens, And I sat in the court two weeks Listening to every witness....
Their spirits beat upon mine Like the wings of a thousand butterflies. I closed my eyes and felt their spirits vibrating. I closed my eyes, yet I knew when their lashes...
Together in this grave lie Benjamin Pantier, attorney at law, And Nig, his dog, constant companion, solace and friend. Down the gray road, friends, children, men and women,...
I winged my bird, Though he flew toward the setting sun; But just as the shot rang out, he soared Up and up through the splinters of golden light, Till he turned right over, feathers ruffled,...
Gourgaud, these tears are tears - but look, this laugh, How hearty and serene - you see a laugh Which settles to a smile of lips and eyes Makes tears just drops of water on the leaves...
This way and that way measuring, Sighting from tree to tree, And from the bend of the river. This must be the place where Black Eagle Twelve hundred moons ago Stood with folded arms,...
I had fiddled all day at the county fair. But driving home "Butch" Weldy and Jack McGuire, Who were roaring full, made me fiddle and fiddle To the song of Susie Skinner, while whipping the horses...
He follows me no more, I said, nor stands Beside me. And I wake these later days In an April mood, a wonder light and free. The vision is gone, but gone the constant pain...
After I got religion and steadied down They gave me a job in the canning works, And every morning I had to fill The tank in the yard with gasoline, That fed the blow-fires in the sheds...
Ye who are kicking against Fate, Tell me how it is that on this hill-side Running down to the river, Which fronts the sun and the south-wind, This plant draws from the air and soil...
How beautiful are the bodies of men - The agonists! Their hearts beat deep as a brazen gong For their strength's behests. Their arms are lithe as a seasoned thong...
Oh, you young radicals and dreamers, You dauntless fledglings Who pass by my headstone, Mock not its record of my captaincy in the army And my faith in God! They are not denials of each other....
The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked, And I was tarred and feathered, For publishing this on the day the Anarchists were hanged in Chicago: "l saw a beautiful woman with bandaged eyes...
With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked, As often before, the April fields till star - light Silkened over with viewless gauze the darkness Under the cliff, our trysting place in the wood,...
They have chiseled on my stone the words: "His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him That nature might stand up and say to all the world, This was a man." Those who knew me smile...